Be well. Remember to breathe.
Hugs to you. This is never easy.
{{ Big internet hug! }}
You’re a good daughter. Doubly so for what you’ve had to put up with, and still do it!
{Huge hug.} Just remember that in time, this all will be behind you, and you’ll be able to live your life again.
FloatyGimpy, oh my god, I can’t believe you had to endure a year of this. I’m speechless. You think you can’t stand one more minute of something and then you go on to tolerate it for months… {{{HUGS}}}
You hung in there and did the right thing, however much you didn’t want to. You can stand on that and rest on that. That’s not between you and mom or you and dad-- it’s between you and yourself. Well done.
My heart just swelled with love for you, reading your middle paragraph.
Regarding your brother, I was with my sister the day the penny dropped for her and she understood that our father was going to die, and soon. Whatever your relationship with someone, seeing them go through that is a very real moment. For my sister, it actually took 3 such moments, because denial and self-protection are pretty amazing brain tricks.
Continued best thoughts for you.
Peace, Floaty.
You are a good woman.
I was in the same situation as yours, Floaty almost two years ago now.
You could do no other than what you’ve done, because you’re a decent person. This is what a decent person does. A decent person gives tender care, even when the recipient of that care doesn’t deserve it. A decent person does the hard things just because it’s the decent thing to do.
Decency has always been a rare quality to have.
Did your brother never come to visit? You said he was shocked to see your dad.
He hadn’t seen my dad in over 20 years.
The nurse was here earlier. He’s in a coma and doesn’t stir when we’re changing or medicating him. For all intents and purposes he’s already dead. We’re just waiting for his body to catch up.
His breathing is slower and very shallow. The nurse doesn’t expect him to last more than 12 hours.
I’m doing OK and your support and comments mean a great deal to me. I’m very calm and controlled right now and doing what needs to be done. I let my guard down here a bit which is helpful to me.
You’ve come through so much, Floaty, and you’ll come through this, too. The waiting is a weird time, though. Hugs.
But Mom thinks he hung the moon?
You’ve done so much. Please PLEASE take some time to completely spoil yourself.
What you are about to lose is any possibility of finally being acknowledged for who you are and what you’ve done and sacrificed. It never really existed, but now this will be incontrovertible.
In the end, we all have to live with who we are, and what we think of ourselves. It’s nice when others acknowledge or recognize our finer qualities, but in the end the high road is still the high road, even when nobody sees you on it. You know, and that is all there is. And it is enough. Because the alternative is living with yourself as a person who doesn’t take the high road. I’m thinking that’s just not something you would be ok with for even a minute.
Popping in to let Floaty G. know that you’re still in my thoughts (as I’m sure for other Dopers, too) during a mind-bendingly difficult time.
I know you’ve got waaa-hhaaayyy more important shit going on right now, than to post on a message board. But that doesn’t mean we forgot about you.
It’s still a waiting game. That man is tough! It’s one week since he had any liquids at all. Honestly, it’s pretty peaceful here right now. As far as dying goes, I have to imagine this is pretty ideal. He’s at home, quietly laying in bed. We keep him clean, dry, warm and comfy. He’s in a hospital bed so it can be like a recliner and we’ve got pillows under his head, knees and feet. The nurse comes every day to check on him and refill the morphine vials. She said we’re doing an excellent job and he looks comfortable.
I don’t know how aware he is of what’s going on around him. Last night I put him on his side so my mom could check for any bedsores and he groaned and his face winced. Then a tear came out of one eye. It wasn’t a runny eye just seeping, it was definitely a tear. I didn’t tell my mom, I just wiped it away and his eye twitched when I touched it.
I didn’t think I’d ever want or be able to take care of him as he died but it’s sort of cathartic. Yeah he was a horrible father but I don’t really feel any animosity towards him right now. There’s a small, tiny bit of genuine compassion for him. My mom went for a shower so I sat with him. I wanted to let him know I was there. I told him everything is forgiven and he can go in peace. His birthday is coming up at the end of the month so I sang him Happy Birthday. Then I thought well I might as well do Christmas as well so I sang some Christmas songs.
I’m absolutely exhausted though. Very little sleep and, while everything is peaceful, it’s still just exhausting. I figure it’s just temporary and eventually we’ll be able to sleep but I do feel a bit zombieish.
Oh my. That brought a tear to my eye. What you’re doing here is so important for you. I wish I could be there to hold your hand. I do believe that the soul survives the body, though I don’t have a clue how or what the “rules” are, but I suspect at this point he knows he screwed up royally during your early years together and wishes he could let you know he’s very sorry.
I spoke to my father on the phone (me in Texas, him in California) when he was on his deathbed. He asked me to come, but I refused. We both apologized for messing up the whole father-daughter thing. The last thing he said to me was, “I’ll never forget you.” That meant a lot.
When my mother (from whom I had been estranged for 40 years) was in her last year-ish (we didn’t know at the time), I moved her to assisted living in my city. I visited her twice a week, did her laundry on one of those days, arranged for the nearby parish to bring her Holy Communion once a week, bought her stuff she wanted, sat with her, listened to her, invited the priest to visit her. At about two years, she faded over a couple of months, stopped eating, and eventually died very peacefully. There were no magic moments of connection between us, but I’m 100% positive that I did right by her when it counted and I feel good about that.
I think of you often and send you many hugs and good wishes.
I can’t say it as eloquently as ThemaLou, but I’m glad you’re finding peace and perspective. The image of you singing to your father will bring tears to my eyes every time I think of it.
Aww, Floaty, you’ve done an amazing deed, and I’m sorry you haven’t gotten the recognition from your mother, or from your siblings, it seems, that you deserve. I’m glad in these final hours you are finding some peace.
{{more hugs}} You’ve done a great thing. Never doubt that. Please try to remember to take a few moments to take care of yourself mentally and physically. The Dope will be here for you.
I’m in tears thinking about you singing to him. What a wonderful thing to do. I’m remembering my Dad right now, and I’m at work trying not to cry aloud.
Peace be with you. {{{Floaty Gimpy}}}